


A Radiant's Last Breath

by squirenonny



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: 31 Days of Sadfic, CFSWF, Gen, WoR spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squirenonny/pseuds/squirenonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Diagram was clear on one point: Taravangian needed the death rattle of a Radiant.</p><p>Written for CFSWF 2015</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Radiant's Last Breath

The logistics of it were a challenge.

It took Taravangian two rare days of genius-level intellect to work out the kinks. Radiants didn’t die easily, nor slowly. One could, of course, behead them, but that would leave no time for a death rattle.

He had thought, on an average day, that merely depriving the subject of Stormlight would suffice. Fortunately, he’d had the first rare day before the Radiant died. Stormlight was a vital part of the process. A necessary part of Surgebinding, which was, itself, what made this subject so special.

Remove the Stormlight, and he would become merely human, with a merely human death rattle. What a waste that would have been.

The Diagram was difficult to interpret on this matter. The death of a Radiant was key, somehow. Taravangian would just have to trust that his smarter self had got it right.

“It is time.”

Adrotagia’s voice startled Taravangian out of his thoughts. His thoughts were slow today. Slow enough that Taravangian itched to put this off until tomorrow. There were two reasons why he could not.

First was the Alethi princess he could not divert much longer. He did not fully trust himself to kill a Radiant in this state, but it was better than facing Jasnah Kholin and convincing her that he had no motive but to help Alethkar find its missing Radiant. Jasnah was a shrewd woman, and dangerous. Perhaps as dangerous as Taravangian himself.

In light of her presence, he would have liked to hasten this death…but there was still the other matter.

Jasnah Kholin would hardly be out searching as the highstorm and the everstorm collided overhead. Those who hadn’t fled Kharbranth were hiding deep underground in shelters constructed specially for today.

A most portentous day.

Taravangian stood and, together with Adrotagia and Mrall, made his way to the special chamber beneath the Conclave. Mrall carried a box in one hand. In the other he held a goblet full of diamond broams, freshly infused by the clashing storms above, their light casting the chamber into sharp relief.

The younger Kholin prince lay chained to his bed, hands sheathed in Half-shards that could not be cut by his Blade, even if he managed to summon it.

His face was pale, breath shallow from the sedative Taravangian had mixed with his water. Mrall had scarcely carried the spheres into the room, however, when the young prince drew a deep breath. Stormlight faded from the broams and glowed beneath Renarin’s skin. His eyes snapped open, fixing at once on Taravangian.

The snarl that twisted his lips had not been there when the boy was first brought in.

“Peace, Prince Renarin. Your suffering is drawing to a close, now.”

Renarin’s colorless eyes, ablaze with Light, turned skyward, as though he could sense the storms. Perhaps he could. The visions peculiar to his Order came most often during a storm, or in its wake.

Taravangian wished he had the luxury of studying the visions properly. But Jasnah Kholin would not delay long in finding her cousin, with or without Taravangian’s help. Even without the urgent command in the Diagram, he didn’t have time for idle curiosity.

The death rattle of a Truthwatcher held the key to the future, if only Taravangian could draw it out.

“Let us begin.”

Adrotagia stepped forward and, in a single, graceful motion, plunged her knife into Renarin’s heart.

The boy jerked, his back arching off the bed, chains rattling as he writhed. He gasped, and drew in all the Light in the room. They plunged into darkness, the only light the glow rising like steam from Renarin’s skin. His eyes were two blazing stars, burning into the depths of Taravangian’s soul.

Adrotagia withdrew her knife, wiped it clean, and sheathed it as Renarin’s flesh knit back together.

“You think that will kill me?” he asked, voice taut with pain and with anger.

“No.” Taravangian waved Mrall forward. “I just needed you to take in enough Stormlight.”

Mrall opened the box and withdrew its contents. A minute widening of the prince’s eyes—he recognized the larkin, and what it meant. Then Mrall had it set against the bare skin of Renarin’s arm.

The Stormlight glow dulled. The knife wound ceased healing, leaving a shallow gash on Renarin’s chest, oozing blood.

Taravangian slit Renarin’s arm himself, cutting more deeply than usual. The timing was delicate, more so than usual. Bleed the Truthwatcher too fast and he would die without giving a rattle. Too slow, and the larkin would siphon off all his remaining Stormlight, rendering him worthless.

With the storms raging on overhead, there was no time for a second chance.

But Taravangian had gauged it well. The Prince’s life faded before his Light, and there, in the space of a Radiant’s last breath, he spoke the words Taravangian most needed to hear.


End file.
